


impossible things

by softambrollins



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Bathtubs, Cuddling, Fluff, Getting Together, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, Massage, Mutual Pining, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-21 19:52:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13748076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softambrollins/pseuds/softambrollins
Summary: "You — you need to — to get on a fucking plane right now," Dean went on, his tone more urgent, almost desperate. "I just — I need you here. Tonight. Okay?" There was something like guileless hope in that last question. He'd never heard Dean sound like that before."Okay," he managed to verbalise, before he'd even really registered what he was agreeing to. All he knew was that Dean was asking him to come, and Seth wanted Dean so much right then too. As much as he'd ever wanted anything in his life.





	impossible things

**Author's Note:**

> Post-RAW 19/02/2018.
> 
> Seth Rollins is fucking amazing. And he deserves to cuddle with his boy after that insane performance. That is all.

The first thing Dean says when he sees him is "You're such a fucking idiot, Rollins."

He would laugh, but laughing still hurts. His entire body feels like he's been in a car wreck. His legs were still shaky when he got off the plane. He'd nodded off for just about half an hour, and he'd woken up startled and disoriented, like he'd come back from the dead unexpectedly. Maybe he _had_ , somehow. Everything after leaving the ring has felt like walking through a strange, indistinct dreamscape.

The match feels like a long time ago now. It's all blurred together — getting one over on Roman, the gruelling battle with Cena that just wouldn't end, Elias eventually pinning him when he literally didn't have an ounce of energy left to kick out, muttering to the trainers that he was fine, harnessing some semblance of coherence to get through the interview, and then hearing music in the distance and realising it was his own phone and seeing Dean's name there through the haze of his mind —

"You...crazy son of a bitch," Dean had said when he'd picked up, words gruff and slowly, evenly articulated, before Seth could even begin to say anything. "I can't believe you fucking did that. What the hell is wrong with you, man?" His voice was scolding, concerned and disbelieving all at the same time.

It was still hard to even talk much then so he just let out a breathless, incredulous laugh down the line. He almost felt like crying. From exhaustion. From relief. From hearing Dean's voice and missing Dean like a constant throbbing ache deep inside his chest and knowing he was watching. It was _real_ and Dean saw it.

"You — you need to — to get on a fucking plane right now," Dean went on, his tone more urgent, almost desperate. "I just — I need you here. Tonight. Okay?" There was something like guileless hope in that last question. He'd never heard Dean sound like that before.

"Okay," he managed to verbalise, before he'd even really registered what he was agreeing to. All he knew was that Dean was asking him to come, and Seth wanted Dean so much right then too. As much as he'd ever wanted anything in his life.

There's something about going an hour-five in a ring against two of the best there's ever been — it doesn't just affect the body but the mind too — it numbs all the doubts and the static and the inconsequential thoughts in your head, it reduces you to your base instincts, your fundamental needs. Air, water, rest, sleep — Dean. Dean. _Dean._

And now Dean's standing there just staring at him, like he's a spectre. Like he's a fucking idiot. But there's something else, something shining in his eyes that almost resembles pride.

Seth lets out a sigh, before he looks up at him, unsure for the first time tonight. It feels like the only weakness, the only hint of vulnerability he's let anyone see in a long time. "I didn't win though," he says softly, his voice breaking slightly, and it kind of feels like all the tears he's been holding back are finally about to flood over. But he thinks he's too tired to even cry right now.

Dean looks like he's maybe about to actually punch him in the face for a second. 

Seth lets himself laugh now at the look on his face and then suddenly feels all the fight leave his body, all at once, and he sees Dean's eyes widen in alarm and then go so, so _soft_ , and if that's the last thing he sees before he passes the fuck out, then it'll be worth it, so, _so_ worth it — He's pretty sure there's probably a big, dopey smile on his face, just looking at him, trying to keep his heavy, heavy eyelids open — 

But then Dean just reaches out for him with one hand, curls his warm, firm fingers into Seth's shoulder, his touch like the only anchor he needs or will ever need, and this one time, Seth doesn't — or can't — make himself resist the inexorable magnetic pull of Dean's body that's always been there. 

It's more like Seth falling into him because he physically can't stay upright anymore than a proper hug, but Dean holds him as close to him as he can, his chest flush against Seth's, wraps both arms around his waist, hands splayed at the small of his back —

Seth realises then that Dean's hands are kind of shaky too. And then they curl into the back of his shirt and they go steady again, as Dean lets out a long sigh into the side of Seth's neck. Like having him here, in his arms, is a tremendous relief for him too.

He just buries his face in Dean's shoulder, surrenders to the force of gravity and of him, trusts Dean to hold him up. And he does.

He lets his eyes fall shut and doesn't really care when he has to open them again.

He doesn't have to keep fighting anymore. Dean's with him now. He can just — _stay_. Stay right here.

*

He passes out in the car for a couple minutes and wakes up just as off-balance when they pull into Dean's driveway, still a bit uncertain of where he actually is, his brain still trying to catch up to his body.

Dean puts his bags in the guest bedroom but then leads him down the hallway to his own instead. Seth just follows behind him wordlessly. He's just waiting for an opportunity to get into the closest bed he can find and give in to unconsciousness. He's not going to ask any more questions than that.

Dean closes the door behind them and then Seth turns around to look at him. Finally. Properly. Now that they're alone for the first time in a while. He knows Dean hates this question as much as he does, but he hasn't seen him in weeks, and if he doesn't keep talking he's scared he won't be able to stop himself from putting his arms around Dean again and maybe dragging him into bed with him and then literally never letting go of him this time.

"Are _you_ okay?" he asks, finally, carefully.

"Yeah, I'm doing alright. Better than some people, at least," he says, giving him a pointed look.

"What about your arm?"

"It's coming along. I'll be back to beating up scumbags before you know it," Dean says, but there's a bitterness in his voice from being stuck on the sidelines that he can't hide from Seth. Seth knows him too well for that.

"Dean —" he starts.

"You know, while I was waiting for you to get here, I was thinking — if you need someone to beat up Elias, I'd be glad to —"

Seth smiles in amusement but then shakes his head. "I don't need that from you."

"What _do_ you need?"

Seth sighs. "Just this," he says honestly, meeting his eyes. "Just _you_."

Dean nods slowly, like he's trying to process what exactly Seth's saying. "And by that, you mean — totally innocent and friendly support in a time of need, right?" he guesses. 

Seth has to try really hard to suppress his laughter at that. "Yeah, because everything's always been so _innocent_ between us."

"I mean, it could be," Dean says, shrugging. "If that's what you wanted." Seth remembers what he'd said on the phone: _I need you here_ — maybe now that he's actually here in front of him, it's a bit harder to be so honest and brave and vulnerable. Seth knows what that's like.

It's always been there, this unspoken thing between them. They've both always known it, but it seems like every time they get close to crossing that boundary — into something new, something scary and inevitable and staggering, something so, so _right_ — something happens to mess it all up again. It felt impossible for a long time, and then it _wasn't_ , and then Dean was gone again and they'd missed another chance... But tonight — tonight kind of feels like a night for impossible things.

Seth shakes his head again. "Nah, that's definitely _not_ what I want."

"What do you want _right now_ , though?"

Seth just looks at him for a minute before slowly stepping closer, being drawn in by Dean's gravitational field. Their knees bump first and Seth looks up into Dean's eyes, then, his own unblinking. He's close enough to smell the familiar combination of things that makes Dean _Dean_ , close enough to feel the warmth radiating from his body. He reaches up and just barely touches his palm to the centre of Dean's chest, over his t-shirt, right over his heart. It's a question, one he's been meaning to ask for a long time, and Seth sees Dean take a deep breath, before finally giving him his answer.

Dean doesn't hesitate to wrap his strong arms around him, his embrace so soft and warm, tight but gentle at the same time, gathering him as close to his own body as he can. Seth tucks his head under Dean's chin, inhaling the fresh, sweet scent of his skin, and Dean tangles his fingers into Seth's hair, at the base of his skull. Seth closes his eyes and Dean gently presses his mouth to his temple.

"I missed you so much," he murmurs against Dean's collarbone.

"I know," Dean says quietly. "I'm right here."

They stay there, wrapped up together, for a long time.

And Seth feels a newfound sense of contentment gradually settle over him, putting his mind and heart at ease for the first time in months. It almost makes him forget his sore, battered body, the last few weeks of seemingly constant disappointments, the emptiness that he's been feeling so acutely since Dean's been gone. It feels like something slowly stitching itself back together, finally repairing a piece of him deep down inside that's been missing.

*

A while later, Dean just sits him down at the foot of the bed and tells him to stay right there before he disappears somewhere. He flicks through the TV channels for a bit until it all just starts getting fuzzy in front of his eyes and he opts to close them instead — just for a minute —

And then Dean's back and he tilts his head back to look up at him, curiously.

"Come on, take your clothes off," he says seemingly out of nowhere.

" _What?_ " Seth says, staring at him. This is definitely feeling like some kind of hyper-realistic fantasy scenario now.

"I mean, I'd help but, uh —" he says, lightly patting the brace on his right arm.

"What?" he asks again, not understanding any better than he did a second ago.

"I mean, unless you wanna get soaked in your clothes —"

"What? Are we going swimming?" Seth asks stupidly.

Dean huffs a sigh. " _No_ ," he says with an impressive amount of patience. "You're getting in the bath."

Seth thinks about it for a moment, then frowns.

"No, can't, I wanna sleep," he says, knowing he sounds like a petulant child.

"Bad idea, man. You're gonna feel like shit in the morning. This'll help. Trust me."

"I'm so fucking tired, man —"

"You're gonna get in the bath," Dean says, more authoritative this time. He can't deny it's kind of hot. "And I'm gonna make sure you don't pass out and fucking drown in my tub."

"Okay, fine. Just didn't know you cared so much, man," Seth teases.

"Nah, property values go way down if someone dies in the house, you know?"

" _Liar_ ," Seth accuses. "You _really_ like me, don't you?" His brain has to be functioning at, like, almost comatose levels right now. He'll blame it on that.

"You know, you're kinda mouthy for a guy who just got beat up for an hour tonight."

"Hey," Seth says, mock-offended. "It was an hour and _five minutes_ , I'll have you know."

"Okay, fine," Dean says, rolling his eyes. "Now, time to get in the tub, _Ironman_."

"Oh, I could get used to that, actually —"

"Shut up, Seth."

*

He's just beginning to feel the effects of the water — the heat seeping into his muscles and bones, the burning starting to ease — when he hears Dean come in. He doesn't bother to open his eyes. It feels too good. And he doesn't want to admit to Dean that maybe he was right. He's a stubborn bastard. He'll admit it. He's fine living with that knowledge. It hasn't killed him yet.

Then, he registers Dean sitting on the edge of the tub and he blinks up at him, confused. "What are you doing?"

"Just relax," Dean says, only slightly annoyed now. "Stop thinkin' so hard about everything."

And then Dean puts his fingers in Seth's hair and suddenly it's impossible to even _try_ to think about anything at all.

His heart's beating really fast now, and he has to force himself to _just calm down, just take deep breaths, just let it happen. It's okay._

It's easier said than done, though, when Dean's long, deft fingers are working circles into his scalp, sending waves of pleasure throughout his entire body.

He closes his eyes, sighs, tilts his head back, surrenders to the sensation.

Dean gradually moves lower, tracing patterns over the back of his neck, and then down to his shoulders.

He's always secretly had a thing for Dean's hands, but he never in his wildest dreams thought he'd end up _here_ — naked, in his bathtub, in his house, with Dean _touching_ him, what feels like everywhere.

" _Jesus._ Where'd you learn to do that?"

"I have many talents," Dean says, going for mysterious and basically landing on 'huge dork.' "It's even better with two hands, if you can believe that."

"Most things are," Seth says, grinning. "You ever think you're in the wrong line of work?"

Dean just makes a noncommittal sound of acknowledgment at that comment.

Dean kneads his fingers down the middle of his back, along his tattoo, and he can't even be an asshole to him anymore. It's probably the best thing he's ever felt. 

He feels all the tension in his muscles, all the stiffness in his joints loosen, as if by magic.

He's pretty sure he's really about to fall asleep now.

But then Dean brushes some of his hair away and kisses the curve of his neck where it meets his shoulder, his lips soft and warm and slightly damp. It causes a thrill of electricity to shoot down his spine and he lets out an audible gasp, feeling like his body's about to startle right out of the tub and onto the floor. But Dean's hand is gentle but firm on his shoulder, holding him in place.

Dean kisses him again, higher up this time, right below his ear, breath hot on his sensitive skin.

And Seth feels like he could just melt into his touch and die happily right now.

*

Apparently Dean raided a candy store before he picked him up at the airport. Figures.

They're lying back in Dean's bed, surrounded by junk food. The TV's on some nature show but it's on mute and they're just laughing about something dumb instead and it feels like everything Seth could ever want right now.

And then Dean throws a Skittle at him because he's a five-year-old. And Seth throws one back because he's not much better, really.

And Dean's laugh is the best sound he's ever heard and he just stops and stares and he can't help the fond smile drifting across his face. And Dean just looks back at him for a moment, catches his eyes, with what can only be a matching one.

And Seth's just...so tired. Of everything. Literally and figuratively.

So he just blurts out exactly what he's thinking at that exact moment.

"Can I kiss you?"

He knows he should feel like a completely embarrassing loser for even asking that, but he doesn't care. Not one bit.

Dean just laughs again, half-amused, half-surprised. "Yeah," he says, nodding, eager, without even thinking about it.

"You sure?" Seth murmurs, wide eyes searching over his face.

" _Fuck yeah_ , man." 

He hears a tiny hitch in Dean's breath, sees him swallow hard, then slowly lick his lips —

Seth shifts closer on the bed, leans in as far as he can go without touching him. Their noses brush and Dean lifts a hand up to lightly rest against Seth's jaw and line them up properly before their lips slot together. Dean tastes sweet and fruity and bright and more like _home_ than anything he's ever known. They kiss slow and easy and warm and time itself seems to slip away from them. It feels like they've been doing this forever, and Seth doesn't ever want to _stop_ doing this.

*

"You were fucking amazing tonight, you know," Dean tells him when they eventually separate for air. Seth's head is resting on Dean's chest, Dean's fingers gently carding through his hair. He's pretty sure he's glowing from happiness right now, which is quite a feat considering the hell he went through just a few hours ago.

Seth shrugs. "Yeah, I wasn't too bad, I guess."

"It was kinda hard to watch, though," Dean admits quietly. "I was worried about you. Made me wish I was there."

"What would you have done if you were there?" Seth asks, genuinely curious.

"Dragged your dumb ass out of the ring," Dean says bluntly.

"Really?"

"Nah, probably not. But I was fucking yelling at the TV for you to just stay the fuck down. The neighbours probably think I'm nuts. Or even _more_ nuts, anyway —"

Seth just smiles, picturing that image.

"What were you thinking?" Dean asks, voice low and serious now.

"I wasn't thinking," he says truthfully. "I was just — _feeling_. It felt like that was the only thing I had. The only thing that mattered. Just like winning on Sunday is all that matters. And winning the title."

"So, how the hell are you gonna pull that off?"

"Just like I pulled off tonight. Thinking about what _you_ would do," he says matter-of-factly.

"What?" Dean asks, sounding genuinely stunned.

"Remember that time you fought Braun, and I was _so_ mad at you — but I was so fucking proud too. And I just wanted to know what that was like again."

"What, dying?" Dean deadpans.

"No. You remember how it is when you're first starting out? And you're just a skinny, sixteen year old kid in a dirty, cramped gym and everyone's bigger than you. But no one could outlast you. Because all you ever wanted was to be right there in the thick of it. Because you didn't have anything to lose."

Dean's fingers come to a rest in his hair, and Seth feels him let out a breath and nod. They've never really talked about this much, but Seth's always known that underneath everything, Dean and him are the same. They'd both gladly bleed for the one thing they love more than anything.

"Just — refusing to stay down. Fighting until there was nothing left. Fighting because that was all you had. Most people lose that as they get older, start caring about other shit. Money and titles and not dyin' young. But you — you never did."

Dean just whistles under his breath. "Jesus Christ. And they call _me_ crazy. You have piss-poor taste in role models, Rollins."

"Nah," Seth says, smiling, shaking his head. "I think I'm doin' alright."

*

It's dark and quiet in the room and neither of them have said anything in a long while, but Seth knows that Dean's still awake next to him, just like Dean must know Seth is too.

"You know, you're wrong about something," Dean eventually murmurs into the space between them.

"What?"

"That big, ugly, red belt — that's not all you have." He turns on his side so he can reach over and lightly stroke Seth's cheek with the back of his fingers.

Seth curls his own hand around Dean's, slowly brings it to his mouth.

"Yeah," Seth says, dropping a kiss on his hand, before looking up at him and nodding. "I know."

"I talked to Roman before you got here," Dean tells him.

"Hmm, yeah?" Seth says, sleepily, absently.

"He said you were one crazy motherfucker. But he's proud of you. Even though you got the slip on him."

"Didn't make it easy for me," Seth concedes.

"At least you got payback for the Rumble."

"Nah, it wasn't like that. I deserved it," Seth admits.

"Still hurt though?" Dean says knowingly.

"Yeah," Seth sighs. "I feel like...everything's still weird with Roman, you know?"

What Seth took from Dean and what he took from Roman are two different things. Maybe it's not so easy to fix what's broken between them after all. Seth's not sure how you give a man back his honour and his pride after you've stolen it in front of the entire world.

"And it's not weird with _us_?" Dean says with a raised eyebrow.

"Nah, this is... _different_ ," Seth says, voice sure.

Dean just looks at him for a minute and then nods. It's never been easy to explain, but Seth and Dean have their own language. Just meant for the two of them. Even after everything that's happened. They don't need to say a word to understand each other completely. To know each other better than anyone else ever could.

"You know, you never told me…" Seth wonders out loud after a moment.

"What?"

"Why you tossed that chair out of the ring."

They haven't talked a lot about that night either, but Seth knows it had to have been as hard for Dean as it was for him. Seth wanting Dean back so badly, being so scared of rejection, knowing he probably deserved no more than that from Dean after everything he'd done, but clinging to the shreds of hope that were all he had. Dean still heartbroken and cautious but unable to hide the glimpses of wistfulness in his eyes when he looked at Seth, so scared of showing him any vulnerability, of being hurt again...but still, he hadn't even hesitated in that moment.

"I — I think I realised then that I didn't want to hurt you," Dean says earnestly. "I just wanted… _you_."

"Well, I'm right here," Seth tells him firmly. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Me too," Dean promises.

"Yeah?" Seth asks, looking up at him expectantly, with a hint of a smile. 

"Yeah," Dean says, nodding. "I — I love you."

Seth just stares at him with something like awe for a moment in the dim light, feeling his throat tightening. Dean wraps his arm around Seth's waist now and pulls him in until they're breathing the same air, close enough that Dean's beard rubs against his own, tangled up in the middle of the bed. Seth closes the almost nonexistent distance left between them to brush a brief kiss to his mouth and then manages to meet his gaze and get the words out.

"I love you too."


End file.
